Wayward Demons
by StillNotGinger17
Summary: Nicole is a regular, all American girl. The typical girl next door. But she has a dark past, and an even darker future when she meets the Winchester boys after her sister died of what she thought was a medical mystery. But the boys think it's something very different.
1. Chapter 1: Carry On, Emma

**Sooo, I don't consider this cheating if I re-write my old story before the NaNoWriMo. (it will not go into the word count... sigh)**

**Also, this is a lot different from my original I had planned. I suppose it's a good thing. **

**Wayward Demons**

My name is Nicole Peters. I started out with a normal life. I had graduated high school, and was going for my degree in Psychology. I had a little sister, Emma, who I wanted to protect with all my heart. I had divorced parents, but that's not so different. My mother loved my sister and I. She always told us just how proud of us she was. And even though my father was never in the picture, neither Emma nor I ever felt deprived of love. Mother had so much love to give us. We had a bright future ahead of us. Emma was getting straight A's in her senior year. She was a better student than I could ever imagine myself to be. She had a lot of things going for her. But life has a way of, well, getting in the way. And before you know it, all your assumptions, all your plans for your life are thrown out the window without a moment's notice. And all at once you're left with nothing.

This is my story of when life beat me down to hell. But, with the help of others, I fought my way back up.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

It had been a year since Emma was diagnosed with epilepsy. At first the symptoms were described as completely normal, so we didn't have need to worry. But things started to change, and fast. Her symptoms grew progressively worse, and seemed to even get worse when she was put on medication. She became bed ridden, her moods changing rapidly. One day she was fine, and the next she was, well the complete opposite. I took time off of school to take care of her. And even though I gave her my full attention, and did everything I could, she still got worse and worse. She wouldn't eat, and shrunk to skin and bones. She wouldn't drink either. All she would do was sleep. All the doctors we saw said something different about it. We didn't know who or what to believe. All we knew was that my little sister's health was rapidly declining. We admitted her to the hospital, where she was put on a drip, and was able to get some nutrition in her. I sat with her one night, holding her fragile hand. She looked so deeply into my eyes I thought she was seeing straight into me. As if she was peering into my soul.

"You'll be okay," I assured. "I promise." It was an empty promise. I didn't think she was going to be okay. But she knew I was lying. She always does.

"I don't want to die, Nikki." She whined. "I don't want to…" I shushed her, taking her hand in between both of mine. "You won't."

She closed her eyes. "I wish you could believe you. I really do." She set her blue eyes on mine again. "I can feel it coming. I can… almost see it." Tears rolled over her cheeks. "Oh God, Nikki, I'm so scared!"

In a desperate attempt to soothe her, I reached out and stroked her long brown hair. It wasn't soft to the touch as it normally was. Now it was greasy and rough all at the same time. I didn't want to confront the knowledge I had that she was very likely not to make it through this. I just didn't want to believe it. But somewhere deep down I knew it was true. In the midst of my chaotic mind I began to hum a melody. It was a song we practically grew up on.

"Please sing." Begged Emma. "Please." I sighed, then smiled patiently at her.

"Okay." I whispered, then began to sing as softly as I could manage. "Carry on my wayward son, they'll be peace when you are done." Emma let a soft breath out as she closed her eyes. "Lay your weary head to rest…" For a moment I thought she had stopped breathing, but was comforted as I continued to hear her heart monitor in the distance. "Don't you cry no more."

That next morning, while mother and I walked to Emma's room, a horrible feeling dawned upon me. I tried to shake it off, but when I saw nurses standing out her room I knew something had happened. Mother knew as well.

"What happened?" She cried. I wrapped my arm around her to steady her for the blow I knew was coming. The nurses looked at us, sympathy thick in their eyes. "What happened?" Mother asked louder.

"Ms. Peters… your daughter didn't make the night." One of the nurses said tenderly.

"Let me see her." My mother almost whispered.

'Ma'm, that's not advisable…" The nurse warned. "LET ME SEE HER!" Mother screamed this time. I squeezed her shoulder as to tell her to calm down without words. The nurse looked defeated as she opened the door. Emma looked exactly the same as she did when I left her last night. She was in the same position, her hand limp on the sheets towards the chair I had been sitting in. Mother gasped, then slapped her hand to her mouth as if her outburst had been rude. Sobs broke out of her, and she collapsed to her knees. I stayed standing completely still, unable to move, unable to feel.

"We… I am so sorry." The nurse said from behind us.

The room began to spin. My eyes couldn't focus on anything… then my instincts took over my paralyzed body, and I began to run. Through the hall, down the stairs, past the main desk, and into morning sun.

The wind screamed in my ear as I continued to run. I had never ran so fast in my life. The song I had sang to Emma last night played in my ears, this time not as a lovely melody. Now as a lingering ghost, a nightmarish version of what was once our lullaby. My breath became short and laboured, and soon my legs gave out from underneath me. I fell to the pavement, and I saw tears roll down to the dry cement. I had not been aware that I was crying. The image of Emma wouldn't leave my mind. And the knowledge that the last thing she had ever heard was me singing her to sleep.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

"That should be the last of them." Mother said, closing the front door behind her. All day there were reports in and out of the house, asking us questions of Emma's sudden death from a mysterious disease. Assholes just wanting a good story to tell to the press so they could make some cash. It made me sick. I sat on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest. Mother came and sat down next to me. I barely felt the shifting of the cushions.

"I hope it is." I said. Mother smiled at me. "Me, too." I let my head fall on her shoulder, and breathed in her comforting scent. She sighed.

"I'm sorry." She admitted.

"What are you sorry for?" I asked, almost annoyed.

"I just hate seeing you this way. Can I do anything for you?" She asked, placing a hand on my knee soothingly. After a few seconds I nodded my head.

"Coffee." I said. It was the first thing that came to my mind, and I didn't really want it, but I wanted mother to think that she was helping. She smiled softly at me, and patted my knee.

"Coming right up." She got up and walked to the kitchen. After a couple of minutes the doorbell rang. I sighed loudly, and stood up. "I'll get it." I announced.

I opened the door to two men in suites, one with short hair, and one with slightly longer hair. They nodded.

"Nicole Peters?" the one with longer hair asked.

"Yes, that's me." I said, almost defensively.

"I'm special agent Marshel, and this is special agent Smith." The man with shorter hair explained, flashing a badge at me, and quickly put it away before I could examine it. "May we come in?"

"May I ask what this is about?" I asked.

"This is just a follow up on your sister's case. Emma Peters?" Agent Smith said.

The name was like a punch in the gut, and it took all I had to keep in a gasp.

"Look, my mother and I have been up to our necks in reporters and journalists all day. I think we could use a break." I explained.

"Uh, it won't be long." Agent Smith replied quickly.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Come on in."

I led them to the usual chairs all the other people sat in, and peered into the kitchen.

"Special agents, their asking about Emma. Think you can join me?" I asked. Mother tensed her hand around a coffee mug, and shook her head tightly. "Okay. I'll get them out of here fast."

I sat down on the couch. The two agents sat almost identical to each other, and both of them looked at me in the same way. Like I was victim. I was getting used to this, after everyone coming in today. But just because I'm used to it, doesn't mean I like it.

"You two brothers?" I asked. Agent Smith looked almost taken aback, but Marshel kept his cool.

"Yes. He took the name of his wife." He motioned to Agent Smith.

"Hm. Strange. So," I clasped my hands together, "what would you like to know?"

"What were her exact symptoms?" Marshel asked.

"Nothing more than what we gave the press today. She was epileptic, and often had seizures at the beginning of her diagnoses. Then she became too weak for them. We had her on medication, and that kept the seizures down, but then she lost her appetite, her… will to do anything, we knew something was wrong." I was surprised to see neither of the men writing any of this down. "She bounced from one day to the next. One day being really good, and the next day not even wanting to leave her bed. Eventually we put her in the hospital, but… it was too late. She died last week." I explained. I hoped it was the last time I would ever have to explain it.

"I see. And, did her room ever smell different?" Marshel asked.

"Different how?"

"Like rotten eggs? Sulphur?" Smith asked this time.

I frowned at them. "No. What are you getting at here?" I asked, offended.

"Just asking questions. Is your family religious?"

"Y-yes. My grandmother was Catholic, but we're just Christians." I replied.

"How often did you go to church" Asked Marshel.

"Almost every Sunday. Why?"

"We're just asking the mandatory questions." Marshel explained.

"Nicole, did your sister ever have emotional problems?" Smith asked.

I frowned.

"Well, yes. She was dying, and we couldn't find answers as to why, and…" I took a breath.

"I caught her one day, murmuring to herself. When I caught her she looked almost angry that I had disrupted her or something. She had her moments of being the old Emma we knew, but most times she was… different." I explained.

"Different, how?"

"Like I said, angry. Do you know have answers?" I asked in anticipation. To my luck, Smith shook his head.

"We don't know. But we have our suspicions. Here." He pulled a business card out of his pocket, and placed it on the table in between us. "Call is if you remember anything else."

"Or if something else happens." Marshall added.

I nodded my head, looking at the card but not picking it up.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

The night was quiet. There were no fits to listen for, no crying, nothing. It was too quiet for my liking. I almost had half a mind to turn on the radio, just to hear _something_ as I slept. The moon was also too bright, even with the curtains down. I repositioned myself in my bed for the third time. Nothing was comfortable. All day we had cops, journalists, news anchors, hell, anyone looking to get a good story, come in and out of our house. But the only two people that remained in my mind where the two special agents. Smith and Marshall.

I knew there was something different about them. But not in a bad way. Whatever made them different, it made me trust them more. I hadn't told anyone about the mood swings with Emma. And it wasn't like they beat the information out of me. It was like it was sitting at the back of my mouth, waiting for the right cue to lurch forward. What was so different about them?

The question remained in my brain through the night, and well into the morning. I squeezed the last remaining juice from a once, large orange. I smiled triumphantly as I poured the well deserved juice into a pitcher of more juice. I placed it in the fridge gently. Next up was pancakes. The batter was hard to mix together, and I couldn't seem to get the right balance between water and the pancake mix. The first few stuck to the pan. But afterwards it became smooth sailing. Once I was finished I glanced at the clock, and sighed heavily. I took longer than I wanted to. Mother should be awake by now. I was hoping to surprise her.

"Mom?" I called. No answer. "Mom, it's time to wake up." I walked up the stairs, and towards her room. This wasn't like her. Then again, I had never seen her after loosing one of her daughters. The four stages of grief never did run in order. For all I knew, she was probably in the pits of depression. I had to be there for her.

I knocked on the door. "Mom, I made breakfast." Again, no answer. I tried to open the door, but found it locked. Even more strange. I frowned, knocking harder. "Mom?" I couldn't hide the panic from my voice. "Mom, open up!" Nothing but silence on the other side. I banged the door, and fiddled with the handle again. She's going to hate me for this. I walked back a few steps, angled my shoulder towards the door, and ran towards it as fast as I could.

The door flew off it's hinges, and landed in the room with a loud crash. I walked in the room, and immediately knew something was wrong. I peeked to the other side of the bed, and gasped. There, laying motionless on the floor, was my mother. An empty bottle of pills thrown to the wall, and an empty glass of water held limply in her hand.

"Mom!"


	2. Chapter 2: A Leap Of Faith

**So I finished NaNoWriMo 2015! And take a guess how much of the story I got done? That's right, at least 10%! So, this will be an on going thing! **

**Here's Chapter 2. Enjoy, cause there will be lots more!**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own, and will never own Supernatural.**_

"Nicole Peters?" The doctor called my name. I looked up at him from my seat. I was sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. I had been waiting anxiously for the doctor to tell me how my mother was for a while now, but when I saw him I thought differently. Almost like I didn't want to see him. I just wanted this to be over. I stood up quickly, and rushed towards the doctor.

"How is she?" I asked, trying to hide the panic from my voice. I failed miserably.

"She's fine." The doctor said, making me sigh in relief. "Except we don't think she's mentally stable enough to go home. We'd like to place her where she can be treated for her depression."

"Depression? Sh-she doesn't have depression." I stated in confusion.

"Oh, I think she does. She refuses to eat or drink, and well, she refuses to see you, too."

I stood there staring at the doctor. This has to be a dream. There is no way my mother would do this.

"Now, I understand you have a degree in psychology?" The doctor asked. I nodded my head. "I'm surprised that you've seen any signs of it yet?"

"She never showed any signs whatsoever of being depressed, let alone suicidal...She's normally the one comforting me when I'm depressed. She helped me get through the past week, after my sister died..."

"Well, whatever the reason, she doesn't want to see you. I suggest coming back in tomorrow to see if she's changed her mind. In the mean time, we'll work on enrolling her into a place where she can recover from her mental state."

"What, like a… psych ward or something?"

"Exactly like a psych ward. It'll come out of her insurance. I also suggest, for your sake, to not be alone tonight. Not that I think you'll do what your mother did, but… well, you're a psychologist, you know why." He explained. I nodded my head, trying to take this all in.

There was a handful of people I could ask to come over tonight. Neighbors, former colleagues, old friends. But the only ones I could think of were those two special agents from yesterday.

And so that's what I did. I called them, told them something had happened, and to come right away.

I didn't know how long it would take for them to get here, but long enough for me to wind up pacing back and forth at the front door. I hadn't the slightest clue as to who these guys where. But a part of me hoped they could tell me what had happened to my family, and that was enough to trust them. A car pulled into the driveway. It was an old muscle car, but in good condition, and beautiful, none the less. The two agents climbed out of the car, and walked up the rest of the drive way. I had the door opened before they could knock.

"Good, you're here." I sighed.

"What's happened?" Smith asked.

"Come inside." I motion the agents to come in. They closed the door behind them as I lead them to the couch. I sat down heavily where I had sat yesterday.

"My mother. She attempted to kill herself this morning." The two agents looked confused. I shook my head. "I'm confused, too. All my life she's been the one telling me it'll be okay. She's been the one there for me when I'm depressed. And now they're putting her in a psych ward, and… for Christ-sake, she didn't even want to see me." I collapsed my head into my hands, tears threatening. "I just don't know what to do anymore…. I was hoping…" I looked back up at the agents, assessing them slightly. "Hoping you two would've come to a conclusion by now. As to what is happening around here." Agent Marshall looked uncomfortable, where as Agent Smith looked at me with sympathy thick in his gaze. Men were usually strange when people showed emotion, so Marshall didn't surprise me. Smith on the other hand…

"We haven't yet… but we can come up with a few ideas. Here, um…" He pulled out a notebook from his pocket, followed by a pen. Marshall looked slightly exasperated at it. If it hadn't been for what's been going on lately, I might have laughed.

"So, both your sister and your mother started acting out of the ordinary?" Smith asked. I nodded my head.

"Very."

"And, have you experienced anything unusual in yourself?"

I shook my head. "Nothing that I can tell."

"Okay." Smith finished writing down his notes. "We'll be in contact. Hold tight, Nicole. You can get through this."

I forced a smile. He seemed like he really cared about this whole thing. I watched as they backed out of the driveway in the muscle car. The house was now empty… I wasn't sure if I could face it anymore. Desperation punched me in the gut. Surround myself with people… distract myself. I took a deep breath, I locked the front door behind me, and ran after the black muscle car. I urged my feet to move faster and faster, ignoring the burning in my lungs. Eventually Marshall caught sight of me, and stopped the car. I caught up to the drivers seat, completely out of breath. I hadn't thought of what I would say when I got there.

"I, um… I want to come with you." I stuttered. Marshall frowned, but with an elbow from Smith, then nodded his head. I climbed into the back seat, and pulled the seatbelt over my chest. Then the smell hit me. It was awful… like these two had been living in this thing… oh god.

"Don't mind the smell, it's just Sa-um-Smith. He get's gas." Marshall chuckled.

"What kind of special agents live in their car?" I asked in disgust.

"Hey, not just a car! I call her baby. And since you're coming with us, you should know we're not special agents." Marshall explained. He calls his car baby?

"Oh, and Marshall and Smith aren't our real names. I'm Sam." Smith, or, Sam, explained. "And this is Dean. You were right about the brother thing."

"So… where are we going, then?" I asked.

"You'll see." Dean said with a smirk.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

We pulled up at a motel, and the two brothers got out of the car in unison.

"Is this… where you stay?" I asked.

"Yup. For now." Dean called behind his shoulder, putting the key's one of the motel's doors. "It's not so bad, once you get past the smell." He shot a glance at Sam, who sighed heavily.

"Come on man, why are you always putting the blame on me?" He retorted.

I stood staring at the two men as they walked into the motel room. Not special agents. Just two brothers traveling in an old muscle car. What the hell where they up to? I was about to run off, but was stopped when Sam peeked his head through the door.

"You coming inside?" He asked.

"Y-yeah, sure." I stuttered.

Once I walked in it was like somebody had bottled the smell in the car into a fragrance, and sprayed it all over the room. Since I had never had brothers, it made me want to puke.

"Have a seat on the couch." Sam said, motioning me to an old looking couch. I hesitantly sat, feeling uncomfortable. Sam opened his laptop on the table near the window, and took a seat on one of the chairs.

"We've been researching the symptoms of your sister, and I think we've found something." Sam explained.

"Yeah, but hey, first, explain to the lady what we do." Dean explained, opening a bottle of beer.

I gulped.

"Okay, well, you may not believe us, but trust me, this is all real." Sam explained. I nodded my head.

"We're hunters." He said. This wasn't sounding good… "We hunt demons, ghosts, anything supernatural. And we think there was something… strange about your sisters death."

There was a silence in the room. Hunters. Hunting demons. And ghosts. And God know's what else. I could tell they weren't expecting me to believe them.

"See, now you've scared the girl off." Dean said, looking disappointed as he took another swig of his beer.

"No, I believe you." I said. Dean chocked on his beer, and struggled to swallow it. Once he did he just stared at me.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I said I believe you two. It would explain why nobody was able to tell us what was wrong with my sister." I said.

Sam looked wide eye'd at me, and I hid a smirk.

"So what are we looking at?" I asked, wanting to move on.

"Um, yeah…" Sam coughed. "You said both your sister and your mother acted completely out different from how they usually are?" He asked. I nodded my head. "Then, whatever this thing is has the power to influence."

"Which opens the door to a demon." Dean said, sitting on couch next to mine.

"So, basically what you're saying is that there's a demon coming after my family?" I asked.

"Yup." Sam said, leaning back on his chair. "Or, we're guessing."

"And how do we fight a demon?" I asked.

"Holy water, salt, rocks salts, and crucifixes." Dean explained.

"Okay, and how do you kill one?" The question came out harsher than expected.

"Whoa, you leave that to us." Dean said.

"Why? I want to help. I want to get rid of this thing that destroyed my family, so it doesn't hurt anyone else." I nearly spat.

"Look, Nicole, it's not easy fighting demons. We've been hunters our whole lives. We know what we're doing." Sam said gently.

"So what you're saying is I'm incompetent."

"No, no…" Sam was cut off by Dean, who said. "That's exactly what we're saying."

I leaned back on my seat.

"Oh, I see how it is. How about this?" I leaned forward again, looking at the two men with piercing eyes. "We go looking for this god damned demon. We find it, and send it back to hell where it belongs. And once we're finished, you'll see what a girl can do."

The guys looked taken aback. They weren't expecting that. Sam rested his elbows to his knees.

"Look, Nicole, we just don't want you to get hurt." He said. Again with that gentle voice.

"Get hurt? You mean, more than I have already? My family was attacked, and I want to avenge them." I said angrily.

The guys paused, and Sam looked over at Dean.

"This sounds familiar, doesn't it, Dean?" He said. Dean seemed to scowl, and slammed his beer down on the table.

"Sammy, outside. Now."

The two guys walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I didn't know I felt this strongly about the situation. I had been good at bottling my own emotions so I could help my sister. But now that she's gone, the cap is off, and my feeling and bubbling out like a water fall. And boys don't do well with emotions. I silently prayed they wouldn't be too scared off to let me hunt this demon with them. Finally the two brothers walked back into the room.

"Okay, Nicole. You can help us hunt your demon." Sam said. I smiled widely.

"Yes! So when do will kill this bastard?" I asked.

"That's the catch. We don't know how to kill a demon." Dean explained, picking up his beer again. I deflated.

"What?"

"We're looking for something that can kill a demon. Once we find it, we'll come back to town, and you can help us kill it." Sam explained.

I shook my head.

"That's not gonna work with me. I'm not sitting here and waiting for you guys to come back."

After the boys stayed silent for a bit, I sighed and pulled my legs up so I could sit cross legged on the couch. "Look, I'm sorry. I just… I have nothing left. No job, nobody to go home to… all I can think about is getting some kind of justice for my family. And killing this demon is the only way to do that."

Sam looked at me for a long time. Then he finally nodded his head.

"Okay." He said simply. My eyes lit up.

"What? Sammy, she can't come with us." Dean said.

"And why not, Dean? She just wants to find the thing who killed her family. She has a right to find the demon that ruined her life as much as we do with ours." Sam explained.

"Are you crazy? She could be killed!"

"You saw the way she ran after us. I think she'll do fine." Sam defended.

"So, the girl can run. Doesn't make her a hunter."

"No, but we can teach her to shoot. Plus, it's not like this is permanent. Once her demons dead, we can bring her back here." Sam explained.

Dean looked at Sam for a long time.

"Fine." He said, making me sigh in relief. "But I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it." Sam added.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed. "Thank you, so much!"

"Don't get too excited, sweetheart. You've got a lot to do before you can run with us." Dean stated sharply.

"Okay. Where do I start?" I asked, feeling eager.

"First, we'll teach you how to shoot." Dean said, and picked up his leather jacket.

"What, now?" I asked.

"The sooner the better. Oh, unless you want to sit and relax for a while." He said condescendingly.

I glared at him.

"Fine." I said. "Let's go."

The three of us walked out of the hotel room, and back into the smelly muscle car. Well, at least I won't be spending tonight alone.


	3. Chapter 3: In With The New

**It's a Monday! You know what that means? A new chapter. **

**BTW, after this chapter, I'll be getting into the writing that I did for NaNoWriMo. Fierce editing is coming my way!**

_I do not ow__n Supernatural_

It was weird shooting a gun for the first time. It was like a rush of adrenaline, and then horror, as I remembered I was practicing to kill things. I took comfort in the knowledge that they wouldn't be humans. I rubbed my hands together uncomfortably. It was surprising how much they hurt.

"Don't worry, Nicole. You get used to shooting after a while." Sam assured me from the front seat of the muscle car. I nodded my head. "You have to admit, Dean. She did pretty good."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, she was alright. But she needs a lot more to do until she's 'good'. A lot more." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, and was about to say something, until I cut him off.

"It's okay. I'll get better. Just watch me." I explained. Sam chuckled.

"How about we go for drinks, huh?" Dean asked. "I could use a beer…"

"I dunno, Dean. Maybe we should just…" Sam began.

"I'm down. There's a bar on Fifth Street that's pretty alright." I explained.

We arrived at the 'Enjola Bar and Grill'. I had only been there a couple times with some of the students that were in my class. It was always a good time. I silently hoped to run into one of them, maybe say goodbye before I truly take off. A part of me thought I might not come back at all. I shrugged the thought off.

The three of us wondered into the crowded bar. I lead the boys to some bar stools, and told them I would pay for their drinks.

"Not a chance." Dean responded. "This ones on us. Right, Sam?" Sam only smiled at Dean. "Sammy?"

"I think I'm gonna go to the washroom. You two have fun!" He waved us off, and ducked into the sea of people. I glanced over at Dean, who watched Sam leave with tired eyes.

"He's not coming back, is he?" I asked him. Dean shifted his eyes at me, and then nodded his head.

"Well," I started "we mine as well order a drink." I sat on the bar stool, and Dean followed. The bartender came around to ask for our orders. I was about to order my usual, when Dean ordered for me.

"Two scotch's, please. Only one of them neat." The bartender nodded, and turned to make our drinks.

"Thanks for asking me what I wanted." I snapped.

"You ever had scotch before?" He asked. I shook my head. "Then you're in for a treat, sweetheart." His smile was thick with mischief. You could tell he's done his fair share of flirting. I tightened my jaw. Trying new drinks was never my favourite thing in the world. But I had to prove myself to Dean, prove to him that I can be strong, even if it meant chocking down a drink that wasn't my first choice. The bartender came along with two medium sized glasses, and poured the gold liquid in each of them. He dropped a splash of water in one of them, and handed it to me. He handed the other to Dean.

"Why the water?" I asked Dean.

"Scotch is strong. Putting some water in it will make it easier to get down, and some say it brings out the flavour." He said, taking a sip of his.

"So, you don't like scotch with flavour?" I asked. Dean shook his head.

"Just cause I asked for it neat, doesn't mean I can't appreciate flavour." He watched me for a bit, and I knew he was waiting for me to take a sip. So I did. It stung the second it touched my tongue. I forced it down, feeling the burn throughout my throat, and up my nostrils. I struggled to keep down a cough, and saw that Dean was smiling mischievously again at me.

"It's good." I said with a chocked voice.

"Glad you enjoy it. So," Dean shifted his seating on his stool, "tell me a bit about yourself."

"What's there to tell?" I asked.

"What job did you have before your sister got sick? Did you go to school or somethin'?"

"Well… yeah, I was going for my degree in psychology. But when Emma got sick, I uh… well; I thought I was just going to take some time off. Finish it off later on. But, with this 'demon' thing, I may never actually go back." I explained.

"I think you should. In fact, the second your demon's dead, we should come right back here, and maybe drop you off at the University, even." Dean said harshly. The doubt of ever making it back here crept into my mind again. The truth was I did want to finish my degree, eventually. I didn't know when I was going to pick it up again, or if I could ever pick it up again. I took another sip of the scotch as I tried to think of what to say.

"I dunno. I honestly don't know what to expect from this 'demon' thing, in the first place. I may need some time to, well… recover?"

Dean just looked at me, until it was uncomfortable.

"What?" I asked in annoyance.

"You really don't know what the hell you're getting into, do yah?" He asked. I laughed.

"How can I? I'll just follow you're lead." I explained.

"Have you stopped to think that maybe we're not who we say we are?"

I pursed my lips together in thought.

"Yeah. I have. But… I mean I trust you guys. Does that not count for something?"

"You have no reason to trust us. We could be some kind of freaks."

I laughed again. "I think that's obvious by now."

"No, I'm serious, Nicole. How do you know we're not murderers? Whose to say that we didn't poisoned your sister, messed with your mothers head, and are planning on killing you ourselves?" Dean asked, his eyes wide.

"You're scaring me, Dean." I said weakly.

"Look, I just…" He tapped a finger on his glass. "I just don't want anyone hurt on our account."

"That's weird coming from a potential homicidal maniac." I teased. Dean smirked, and raised his glass at me.

"Then, here's to blind trust."

"And here's to hoping that you won't kill me in my sleep." I added. We clinked glasses, and each took large swigs of our drinks.

I was so enthralled with conversation that, before I knew it, Dean and I had finished a whole bottle of scotch. Normally I could hold my own, but that was with beer. This is a whole new level. When Dean paid (since he insisted, and frankly, I was too drunk to refuse anymore) I nearly fell off the bar stool, but caught my balance at the last second. I giggled, my arms spread out to keep my balance. Dean came behind me, and put an arm around my shoulders.

"Whoa, hold on there, killer." I slurred.

"Just trying to help you with your balance." He reassured me. He felt warm, and his flannel shirt felt so soft. I fully leaned into him, keeping an arm over his shoulder. He led me to the black muscle car.

"What kinda car is this, anyway?" I asked.

"It's a nineteen sixty seven Chevy Impala. Not like you'll remember…" He replied.

He opened the car door, and helped me sit inside.

"I'm going to see where Sammy went of to. Stay here." He said. I nodded, smiling drunkly up at him. He chuckled, and closed the passenger seat door.

I watched him as he walked back into the bar. He was really good looking. But he was too stern for my taste. I needed someone a little more gentle, and warm… maybe Dean could just be my drinking buddy! As I sat thinking about this, a knocking on the car made me jump. A strange looking guy peered at me through the dirty window. He was definitely not good looking. I opened the door, and struggled to look up at him. I was too drunk to think any better of it.

"What's up?" I asked, or more, hiccupped.

"Just wondering what a pretty lady like you is doing all alone in this gorgeous car." He asked. I smiled at him.

"Dean would like you. He calls this thing 'baby'. I dunno, I think it smells funny in here."

The man smiled, and put a hand out to me.

"Let me help you out of 'baby' before you hurt her." He said.

I looked at his hand, than looked up at him.

"Uh, sorry, my uh… friends should be back any second. They won't be happy if I just go away." I explained.

"Ah, come on. One more drink, on me. Think you can do that?" He asked.

"No," I laughed, "I've had too much already. I should really be…" Before I could figure out what the hell was happening, he grabbed my arm with such force that I screeched from the pain.

"What the hell are you doing?" I cried. He didn't reply, only kept pulling roughly at my arm. "Come on, stop it!"

He was too strong for me. He yanked me out of the car, and towards him. I put both my arms out to keep from crashing into him, and attempted to push him away. But he had a hard grip on my arm.

"Let go of me!" I screamed. He clasped a hand over my mouth roughly, and tried pulling me closer into him, despite my wild struggle. I bit his hand hard. He yelped, and snatched his hand away from me. Then he seemed to almost growl, and threw me against the Impala. My breath broke, and before I could get it back, his hand tightened around my neck. His eyes became black and wicked with fury, and his teeth were bared. I struggled hard against him, but was surprised by how fast I weakened with no oxygen getting into my lungs. Red spots dotted my vision. I couldn't think of what to do next. Panic was thick in my veins, but I was powerless to do anything. Then his hand was ripped off my neck as he went flying backwards. I collapsed, holding my neck and gasping for air. Standing over the man was a tall and slender woman, with long white hair. When she glanced at me it was as if all of my fear just left, almost as if there was no fear to begin with.

"Nicole!" Dean yelled. I looked over at him as he sprinted from the car. When I looked back at the woman, she was gone.

"What happened?" Dean asked as he helped me to my feet. I pointed to the man that was now unconscious in front of me.

"He attacked me." I said. Dean looked at the man, then back at me.

"What did you do?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Nothing," I replied, " There was a woman, a tall woman. She saved me…" I explained.

"A woman?" Dean asked. "What woman?"

"She was…. She was right here." I explained in confusion. "He had black eyes… and he was chocking me. She saved me."

Dean looked around in his own confusion. "I don't see anybody."

"I'm telling the truth." I said sternly.

"Yeah." He said flatly as he helped me in the front seat.

"I promise you I am." I explained. Dean didn't look at me, just walked to the driver's side, and started the car. We drove back to the motel in silence.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

"We're leaving first thing in the morning." Dean announced as we walked into the motel room. "What?" Sam asked, sitting up in his chair.

"Nicole was jumped by a demon. We need to get her out of here." Dean explained.

"He was a demon?" I asked.

"Black eyes means he came straight from hell. If you want to protect your mother, you need to bring this… thing as far away from her as soon as possible."

"And how do we know she'll be safe?"

"It's already attacked her, and it's not getting anywhere. Now it wants you."

I glanced at Sam, who just nodded his head.

"Okay… okay, just promise me she'll be okay." I said.

"Nicole, we promise she'll be fine." Sam answered. I pursed my lips together, than nodded my head.

"Fine. We'll leave in the morning. But just… just let me say goodbye to her, first."

Just as Dean was about to shake his head, Sam interjected.

"Of course."

When we got to the hospital, I felt as though I was going to see Emma again. It was like the nightmare was happening all over again. I asked the boys to stay behind as I went to speak with mom. When I walked into her room, it didn't even look like her anymore. Her skin was sunken around her cheeks, her hair was dry and matted, her skin becoming pale. She looked as though she would crumble if you touched her the wrong way. As soon as I saw her I knew something wasn't right. That this wasn't her. She opened her tired eyes, and settled them on me. Then anger took over her face, and she turned to look away.

"Hi, mom." I said cautiously. She didn't respond. I didn't take a seat; I just simply stood at the foot of her bed. "I found some people who might be able to help us. They travel in a Chevrolet Impala around America, fighting evil in all forms. And… I'm going to go with them. To find the thing that's been attacking us." I explained.

"You're not who I was expecting." Mom said. Her voice sounded dark and menacing… what the hell is happening to her?

"What do you mean?" I asked in confusion.

"I wanted to see Emma. I don't want to see you." She looked at me, sending shivers through me. "You were never the one I wanted to see."

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I stifle in a sob.

"I know this isn't you, mom. I know you don't mean that." I said. "But whoever the hell is attacking you," I looked around the room, as if to see the demon right here and now, "Whoever _you_ are, you'd better be afraid. You'd better leave my mother alone. And you'd better come after me, because I won't stop until you're dead."

The energy in the room shifted, almost making me gasp. I looked back down at mom, who was looking at me in astonishment. I nodded my head to her, and walked out of the room. The bad energy followed me.


	4. Chapter 4: I Want That Damn Burger!

**It's a Monday. Boom, new chapter! **

**Episode 2: ****Nightmares**

**Chapter 4**

I woke up to Dean shaking my softly.

"Come on, Nicole. We gotta go." He said.

"What's happening?" I asked as I struggled to open my eyes.

"Sam had nightmare, and we need to get somewhere _now_. Come on." He explained. Not much of an explanation. That's when I noticed the intensity of the two brothers as they quickly packed up their things. What happened? Whatever it was, I was startled to see the boys in such a hurry all of a sudden, so I didn't say anything else. I just packed my own stuff, which wasn't hard, considering I had just left my house a couple hours ago. We all climbed into the Impala, and Dean hurried the car out of the parking lot, and down the road. I checked the time on my watch; it was two in the morning.

"Guys, what's happening?" I asked.

"That's something I'd like to know." Dean said, glancing over at Sam, who was dialling a number on his cell phone. Exhaustion quickly over took me, and I yawned loudly.

"Alright, while you two figure this out, you don't mind if I sleep back here, right?" I asked.

"Go ahead." Dean said. I got myself comfortable, which was hard considering the cushions were essentially the same material as cardboard. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come.

"Mcready, Detective Mcready, Badge number 158." Sam said hurriedly into his phone. I frowned at the alias. "I've got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two door sedan, Michigan licence plat Mary-Frank-6037." There was a pause as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. "Yeah okay, just hurry."

I heard Sam shuffle a bit, then repositioned himself.

"I think she's asleep." He said.

"Good. Sammy, you gotta relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I mean it. You know, a normal, everyday, naked in class, nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."

"It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house. And Jessica."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You're dreaming about our house, your girlfriend. This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?"

"No."

"No. Exactly. Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?"

Before I could continue listening, sleep took hold of me.

Sam woke me up this time in I, assumed, Michigan.

"We're here. You can come and stretch your legs." Sam explains. I nodded my head, and climbed out of the back of the cramped car. My back hurt like hell after sleeping in there. I stretched my sore muscles, yawning as I did before looking around. We were parked in the driveway of somebodies house. It was still dark, but there was enough light to see neighbours crowding around the house. Sam joined Dean, who was talking to one of the neighbours. Police and ambulance were crowding the house, and I watched as they wheeled in a body into the ambulance's car. Is that what Sam was dreaming about? The boys started walking back to the car, and I began to overhear Dean talking.

"We got here as fast as we could, Sam." Dean reassured him.

"Not fast enough. It doesn't make sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?" Sam asked.

"You're having premonitions?" I asked as they came closer. Dean first looked annoyed that I had overheard them, but then nodded his head at me.

"So like… this was your nightmare? Seeing this guy get killed?" I asked.

"Yeah…" He turned to Dean, "What do you think killed him?" He asked.

"I dunno, maybe this guy just killed himself? Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all here." Dean suggested. I took a look at the house one more time to see if I could sense any bad vibes. But nothing stood out to me. Sam shook his head.

"I'm telling you, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. I watched it trap him the garage."

"What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, a what?" Dean asked, like these concepts were completely natural. They probably were to them. Maybe one day they'll come completely natural to me, too. I shivered at the thought.

"I don't know what it was. I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening to me, Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Dean and I just stared at him. We was starting to scare me.

"What?" Sam asked us.

"You're kinda freakin' me out a bit." I said. Sam looked at me, unamused. I forced down a giggle.

"I'm worried about you, man." Dean said.

"Well, don't look at me like that, guys!" Sam replied. Dean looked away from him.

"I'm not looking at you like anything." He said, and glanced back. "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap."

Sam glanced over at me, and I nodded in agreement.

"Nice. Thanks."

Dean moved to open the car door.

"Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, and talk to the family." He explained.

"Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not going to want to talk us."

Dean thought for a while, and then smiled menacingly.

"Yah you're right. But I think I know who they will talk to."

I frowned nervously.

"Who?"

(††††††††††††††††††††)

I pulled at my collar uncomfortably.

"Don't pull at it," Sam said, moving my hands away from the priest's collar I was forced to wear, "you'll stretch it."

I sighed, and started following the boys up the steps. Dean and Sam wore roughly the same outfit, although mine was a little more feminine. But not by much.

"Is this a normal thing?" I asked.

"Not at all. I think this is a new low for us, actually…" Sam responded. Dean just smirked at us as he rang the doorbell. The door opened to reveal a stressed looking man. Dean greeted him with a fake, yet convincing smile.

"Good afternoon. I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehly, and this is Sister Carrikale. We're new junior's over at St Augustines. May we come in?"

The man nodded, and opened the door to us.

"Thanks."

"We're very sorry for you loss." Sam said.

"Truly." I added.

"It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed." Dean explained. Sam and I glanced at him. He really stuck out like a sore thumb here…

"Look, you wonna pitch your whole 'Lord has plan' thing? Fine. Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead." The man exclaimed. A woman appeared from the kitchen, rushing over to us.

"Roger, please." She snapped, looking exasperated at his behaviour.

"Excuse me." Roger scowled, and walked away from us.

"I'm sorry about my brother in law. He's… he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?" The woman asked, whom I guess was Ms. Miller, asked.

"That would be great." I answered. We were lead into the lounge. Dean and Sam sat on the couch, and I sat on an armchair. Ms. Miller poured coffee in different cups, and handed them to us. I breathed in the scent nostalgically, remembering how my mother used to make coffee for Emma and I. A pang of guilt hit in my stomach as I thought of this. Suddenly I wasn't thirsty anymore.

"It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now."

"Of course. After all, we are all God's children." Dean said. I struggled not to face-palm.

Ms. Miller smiled politely at us, and then walked back to the kitchen. Dean snatched some cocktail sausages from the coffee table, and chewed them contently. He glanced over at me, and frowned.

"What?" He asked.

"You've never done this before, have you?" I asked. Dean shrugged.

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes, "just let me take the lead."

We watched as Ms. Miller came back and sat next to us. I leaned forward as I asked her questions, trying to be as inviting as possible.

"So, Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?" I asked. It sounded strange hearing myself say this, pretending to be somebody I'm not, yet at the same time still attempting to live my passion of being a psychologist. Ms. Miller shook her head sadly.

"Nothing like that." She squeaked. "We had our ups and downs like everyone, but we were happy." She began to sob softly, and her shoulders began to shudder. "I just don't understand… how Jim could do something like this." A large tear fell on her dress. Sympathy ran deep through me at the sight. I took her hand gently in mine, and looked deeply into her sad eyes. There was something else in them, too. I wasn't too sure, but she looked almost fearful.

"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that." I said softly and evenly. She shook her head, looking down at her knees.

"Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him." She explained, pointing behind her.

I looked to where she gestured, and saw a young man sitting in the dining room corner by himself, staring into space. Sam gave me a look, and I nodded my head.

"You don't mind if I talk to him, do you?" I asked Ms. Miller. "See, I've recently went through something… sort of similar. Maybe it'd be good for him to talk to someone who's had close to the same experience."

Ms. Miller nodded her head, and I smiled at her before walking towards Max.

"Max?" I asked, making him look up at me. Immediately depression was evident in him. It was the first thing I noticed in him. "My names Nicole. I'd like to talk with you." I explained. He just nodded solemnly, and gestured to a chair near him. I moved the chair so I could be facing him, and sat down.

"So how are you holding up?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Okay. I guess…" He grumbled.

"Look, Max, I… I know sort of what you're going through. See, not too long ago I found my mother on the ground. She had taken pills, and a lot of them." I explained.

"Is she alive?" Max asked with a hint of interest.

"Yeah, fortunately. But something in her changed, and well… long story short, that's why I left with uh… that's when I joined the church." It felt straight out wrong lying like this.

"My dad was just a normal guy. Pretty regular." He explained to me. I nodded my head.

"Right, so, when you found your dad…"

"I woke up, I heard the engine running…" He paused for a long time. I could tell he was fighting off tears. "I don't know why he did it."

"I know. Sometimes things just don't make sense. But we just gotta live with it sometimes." I explained.

"And how are you doing? What, with your mother and all?" Max asked. I pursed my lips together, remembering mom's angry eyes as I said goodbye. The anger not belonging to her, and I knew who was responsible for it. I clenched my fists as I breathed out slowly.

"Let's just say we're in the same boat here." I explained. Max nodded his head.

"It's… comforting to know somebody can relate a bit to me." He explained. I tried to smile at him, but I knew it wasn't convincing enough.

"That's what I'm here for, Max."

I met up with the boys again once we were outside.

"Did you find anything in there?" Sam asked Dean.

"Zip." Dean replied.

"How about you, Nicole? Noticed anything strange about Max?" Sam asked me.

"Not really. He's definitely depressed." I explained.

"That's not much of a shocker." Dean said. I shrugged.

"I dunno. Let me sit on it for a bit. I might come up with somethin'." I explained.

"Alright. Let's go back to the hotel." Sam said.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

I watched in mesmerisation as Dean cleaned a large array of weapons on the bed. He glanced up at me, and I looked away nervously. Sam had gone out to get some food for us while we re-grouped with our own deductions of the house.

"Thought of anything else about Max?" Dean asked.

"Well," I started, "He's like me. But I honestly didn't know what to tell him. When I had this happen, I ran away. Don't know if that's an option for him." I explained. Dean nodded his head, and continued to wipe down a large rifle. He smirked up at me.

"You wonna have a go at one?" He asked. I shook my head quickly.

"No," I laughed nervously, "I don't really want to break anything." I stated.

"You won't." Dean said, taking a pistol from the bed, flipping it so the butt of the gun was pointed at me.

"Go ahead. Give it a shot." He said.

I grabbed the pistol, and stared down at it. I didn't even know where to start. This obviously showed, as Dean put his rifle down and came over to sit next to me.

"Here, let me show you." He said. The bed concave where he sat, making our hips collide. It was kind of awkward, to be honest. He gently pulled apart the pistol in front of me, wiping certain parts down with a rag.

"Put your hand here." He said, pointing at a piece on the gun. I listened, but hesitantly. "Now pull up a bit, not too hard." He instructed. I did what he said, and the top of the pistol came off. It was a bit startling, and I jumped slightly. Dean laughed again.

"It won't bite… well, now at least. See, it's important to learn about gun maintenance, keeping them clean and making sure you have all working parts. Otherwise the only asshole it'll kill is you." He said, pointing at me with the rag in his hand. I frowned slightly.

"Isn't that from Fallout 3?" I asked. Dean looked slightly sheepish, and then nodded his head.

"Yeah, but well, it applies here, too." He explained quickly. I chuckled as Dean went back to his bed. Just as he did this Sam opened the door with a tray of fast food.

"Here," He said, handing the first burger to Dean, "_with_ the extra large patty." He explained.

"Ah, thanks Sammy." Dean said, unwrapping the burger happily. When Sam handed me my own burger I noticed he had nothing for himself.

"Sam, you gotta eat." I said.

"I'm not hungry." Sam replied simply.

"At least drink something."

"Are you turning into the mom of the group?" Dean teased through a mouthful of burger.

I scoffed at him.

"No. I just want to make sure the guy's alright." I explained. Dean shrugged

"Fair enough."

Sam sat on the far end of the bed I was sitting on.

"So what do you have?" Dean asked.

"A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built." Sam explained.

"What about the land?" Dean asked.

"No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."

"Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada."

"Sulfer scent?" I asked. "What does that point to?"

"Demons." Dean replied simply. I raised my eyes at the blatant answer.

"Oh." I said, and started nibbling on my burger. Demons. Right. Completely normal, everyday demons.

"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?" Sam asked.

"I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house."

Sam nodded, and began rubbing his temples.

"Yeah. Well, maybe it was nothing to do with the house." He said, taking a deep breath and held his head in pain. "Maybe its just… maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked, moving his burger away from his mouth. I looked nervously at Sam sitting next to me. Sam grunted in agony, sliding off the bed and crouched to the floor.

"Aah! My head!" He cried. Dean practically threw his burger on the end table, and rushed towards Sam.

"Sam? Hey, hey!" He caught him by the shoulders. "What's going on? Talk to me!" He begged. I sat frozen on the other end of the bed, continuing to slowly munch on my burger. I watched in fear as Sam stared at Dean, but like he was staring straight past him into something else.

"Is he having another premonition?" I asked. Dean didn't reply, but continued to hold Sam by the shoulders. After a while, Sam's focus came back to the hotel room.

"It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller." He said breathlessly.

"Well, shit, we gotta go. Like now." I said, getting up from the bed.

"Agreed." Dean replied.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

It was like de-ja-vu when we got back in the car. Sam phoned somebody again, spouting out details quickly. I chewed my burger in thought as Dean drove down the rode in a hurry.

"Did you really have to bring that thing with you?" Dean asked sharply, looking at me through the rear-view mirror.

"I was hungry." I stated shyly. Dean shook his head at me. "You okay?" He asked Sam once he was off the phone.

"Yeah." Sam replied.

"If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…"

"I'm fine. Just drive." Sam sighed heavily. "Dean, I'm scared man. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense, and painful."

"Come on man, you'll be all right. It'll be fine." Dean replied. I couldn't help but think he was mostly talking to himself.

"What is it about the Millers. Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?" Sam asked, almost panicking.

"Relax, Sam. You'll figure it out." I explained.

"Plus we've faced the unexplainable everyday. This is just another thing." Dean added.

"No. It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out." Sam said.

Dean was quiet for a long time as he drove.

"This doesn't freak me out." He said. Sam turned his head away.

"Really? Cause it's still kinda freaking _me_ out." I said.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

We pulled up to Rogers apartment block to see him walking home with a bag of groceries. Sam rolled down the window quickly.

"Hey, Roger!" He called.

"What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone!" Roger spat.

"No, you don't understand, please!" Sam yelled back.

Roger ignored him, and made a B line to the front doors of the apartment. At that, Sam jumped out of the car and started running after him.

"Roger, we're trying to help!" He called. Dean rushed to park the car, and once he did, he jumped out and ran with Sam.

"Uh, guys?" I stuttered, watching them run after Roger. I sighed heavily, and climbed out of the Impala as fast as I could.

"Please! Hey, hey!" I heard Sam yell as Roger closed the door of the apartment building behind him, blocking us off. I ran towards the boys as they called after Roger in a panic.

"We're not priests, you gotta listen to us!"

"Roger, you're in danger!" Dean yelled once I caught up to them. He looked around, and nudged Sam's shoulder. "Come on, come on!" They took off running again to the back entrance.

"Really?" I asked in disbelief. They didn't hear me, and only kept running. I ran after them, suddenly in fear of why they were in such a rush. I made it to them by the time they began scaling the fire escape. From there I was fairly close behind them. I didn't know how much I could help with, but maybe anything would do. Suddenly the sound of the windowsill crashing down on something wet and squelchy made me stop in my tracks. The boys did the same. We all looked in horror at Roger, whose body was crushed by the window. His blood splattered around the flowerbed outside. My stomach churned, and I let out an involuntary cry of fear. Dean hurriedly took out three handkerchiefs, and passed two to Sam.

"Start wiping down your fingerprints, we don't want the cops to know we were here." He explained. "Come on!" He pushed. I looked down at my hand, which was gripping the metal pole tightly. I hadn't realised that I was doing that. I pulled my hand away quickly.

Dean used the handkerchief to push open the window, pushing Rogers body inside.

"I'm gonna take a look inside." He explained. Once he jumped through the window, Sam handed me a handkerchief, and began wiping down the railings wickedly. I followed pursuit, but noticed my hands were shaking, and my breath was short with gasps. Sam seemed to notice, and looked at me in concern.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He said.

"No, it's okay…" I mumbled.

"Here, like this, in circular motions. It'll take off the fingerprints better." He explained. I nodded. He placed his hand over mine gently, as to calm my shaking. I looked up at him to see his understanding gaze.

"Easy, now. It'll get easier." He explained.

"What? Wiping off fingerprints?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. I mean this whole thing. You'll get used to it, eventually."

"You mean this'll happen a lot?"

"Yes," Sam said sadly, "unfortunately. But it won't always been that scary to you. I promise."

(††††††††††††††††††††)

The burger sat on the other end of the passengers seat in the car. Despite my hunger, I couldn't pick it up again. All I could keep seeing was Rogers dead body sprawled on a bed of bloodied flowers, and the fact that he was alive just a few minutes ago haunted me.

"I'm tell you there was nothing in there. No signs either, just like the Miller's house." Dean explained.

"I saw something, in the vision, like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger." Sam replied. This whole thing made me wonder how often these guys saw things like this. They both seemed completely composed, despite just witnessing a brutal death. It also made me scared for the future with them…

"Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?" Dean asked.

"No, it's connected to the family themselves. So what do you think, like a vengeful spirit?"

"Well yeah, there's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years."

"Aniak. Banshees, things of the sort."

"Basically like a curse. So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse worthy."

"And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying."

There was a pause as the two men thought about this. Then a though came to me.

"Do you think Max is in danger?" I asked.

"Dunno. But lets figure it out before he is." Dean replied.

"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people." Sam said.

"What's that?"

"Both our families are cursed."

"Our family's not cursed!" Dean huffed. "We just… had our dark spots."

"Our dark spots are… pretty dark."

"You're… dark."

I laughed from the back seat, making Sam look over at me with a hint of a smile.

"Looks like she enjoyed that." He said.

"Well at least somebody did." Dean replied.


	5. Chapter 5: Seconds Before

**It's a Friday! That means posting today! **

**I'm a little earlier than the last upload I did, but it's still late at night... well, I do have a valid excuse.**

**Oh, and I play around with different POV's this time. Woohoo!**

**Chapter 5**

I sat outside the hotel room, staring at the stars. The brisk air felt good on my hot skin. I leaned my head on the wall behind me, breathing in the cold air. The door of our room opened, and I looked up to see Sam closing the door behind him.

"Hey." He said.

"Hey."

He sat down next to me, and immediately I could feel his warmth.

"You must be cold out here." He said.

"A bit… I'm okay, though." I replied. Sam didn't listen to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into him. I was about to object, when I realised just how warm his flannel shirt was. And just how good he smelt, too.

"You know, Nicole… this job isn't easy. They'll be worse things out there than Roger's death." He explained.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really. I just want to make sure that you can handle this." Sam said. I took a deep breath.

"You know, I remember seeing my sister in the hospital, and feeling so damn hopeless. Wishing there was something in the world that I could do. I wished I could just take it away, you know? At the time, there was nothing I could do. But now there is." I explained. "And I don't want to let a little thing like being scared stop me from doing it."

"Even if it things just get worse?" Sam asked. I nodded my head.

"Yeah. Even if things get worse." I replied.

"Well, you're definitely driven." Sam said, making me smile a bit. "Listen, next time you get panicked like you did, I want you to think only about doing what you can in the moment."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, in this case, we had to wipe down fingerprints. So, next time you get scared, focus only on wiping down finger prints, or whatever you need to do. Distract your mind as much as you can, and eventually things will get easier."

I nodded my head, and looked up at Sam. He had these deep brown eyes that made it clear that he had seen some freakish things. But the way he held himself made it so that you would never guess it at first glance.

"Thanks, Sam." I said.

"No problem, Nicole." He said, rubbing my shoulder encouragingly. "Anytime."

I rested my head on his shoulder, and looked out at the stars again. I'll do better when the next scary thing happens. I will.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

The three of us sat in the Miller house, once again in our priest outfits talking with Max. He was looking worse today. It began to worry me, but I tried not to show it.

"My mom's resting. She's pretty wrecked." Max explained. His voice was more monotone than it had been before.

"Of course." Dean replied.

"All these people kept coming with like, casseroles? I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know cause nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole." Max said with a hint of something hopeful in his eyes. I laughed, making Max smile at me. It was weird to see him smile. Almost like his mouth became too big for his face when he did.

"So how are you holding up?" Sam asked.

"Okay." Max replied.

"You're dad and your uncle were close?"

"Yeah I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little." Max explained. There was something different in the tone he was using now. It sounded more strained than usual.

"But not lately much?" I asked.

"No, it's not that. It's just… we used to be neighbours when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."

"Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?" Dean asked.

"It was fine. Why?"

"All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?"

"What do yeah…" Max shook his head, "Why do you ask?"

"Just a question."

"No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy." Max explained. There was something wrong about the way he said this. It didn't sound convincing in the slightest.

"Good. That's good." Dean replied. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was.

"Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off." I said.

"Right." Sam said, and turned to Max. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Max replied.

Once we left the house, a sudden realisation hit me like a tone of bricks.

"Guys," I said, almost breathlessly, "I think I figured it out."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Fear. I saw it in both Ms. Miller _and_ Max. They're both afraid of something that's going on in the family." I explained so fast that I almost tripped over my own words.

"He did sound scared. That means there's something he's not telling us." Dean said.

"You mean he's lying to us?" I asked.

"What do you think we've been doing to him since we met the kid?"

"Oh… right."

Sam gestured at the house across from the Millers.

"Lets talk to the neighbours. Get a second opinion." He suggested.

"Sounds good." Dean replied.

We walked across the street, and towards a less fancy looking house. Outside it was a man tending to his yard.

"Excuse me, sir. We have a few questions." Dean said.

"Sure. Go ahead." The man replied.

"Have you lived in the neighbourhood very long?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?" He asked.

"No, no," Sam replied, "Actually, we were wondering if you recall a family that used to live right across the street."

"Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max." The man said.

"Right."

"Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door. So uh, what's this about? Is that poor kid okay?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well in my life I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar outta Max. He got lot's of bruises, he even broke his arm two times that I know of."

And so the truth finally comes out.

"This was going on regularly?" Sam asked getting a little worked up.

"Practically everyday. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy, but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good."

I shook my head in disgust.

"How could someone do something like that?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"Beats me. I have no clue how someone could be so heartless."

"Wait, now you said step-mother." Dean caught on.

"Yeah. I think his real mother died. Some sorta… accident. Car accident, I think."

Suddenly Sam began holding his head, and began grimacing.

"Are you okay there?" The man asked.

"Yeah, he's good. Thanks for your time." Dean replied, and held a hand out to Sam as we walked away. Once we got out of earshot from the neighbour, I laid a hand on Sam's shoulder as he winced at the pain.

"God!" He exclaimed.

"Come on, let's get in the Impala." I said. Dean and I helped Sam into the front seat carefully. Sam kept staring into space, in that same way he had done before Roger had died.

"This is starting to really freak me out." I said from the back seat.

"Yeah, well, we gotta get used to it. For now, at least." Dean explained.

"So, this doesn't freak you out? Like, honestly, not a bit?" I asked.

Dean glanced at Sam, who was still looking into the distance. It was getting hard to tell if he could hear us or not. Dean looked back at me, and did a so-so motion with his hands. I nodded quickly at him just as Sam broke out of his spell.

"Easy, easy." I said, holding his shoulder as he shuddered.

"Max is doing it. Everything I've been seeing." He explained breathlessly.

"And you're sure about this?" Dean asked as he started the Impala, and began to drive down the road.

"Yeah, I saw him."

"How's he pulling it off?"

"I don't know, like telekinesis?"

"What, so he's psychic, like a spoon bender?"

"I didn't even realise it but this whole he was there. He was outside the garage when his dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died. These visions, this whole time… I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess…because we're so alike?" Sam rambled on frantically.

"What are you talking about. The dude's nothing like you." Dean explained.

"Well. We both have psychic abilities, we both…"

"Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third."

"Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane."

"Yeah but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family!" Dean was close to yelling.

"Dean…" Sam tried to calm him.

Dean pulled over at Max's house, and yanked off his seatbelt.

"He's no different from anything else we've hunted, all right? We gotta end him." He spat.

"We're not going to kill Max."

"Whoa whoa, wait a damn second, who said anything about killing Max?" I demanded sternly.

"If we don't kill him, then what? Hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind'?" Dean asked harshly.

"No way. Forget it." Sam said.

"Yeah, I vote for the 'not killing the kid', too." I spat.

"Guys…" Dean begged as he turned off the engine.

"Dean. He's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one." Sam said. After a long pause, Dean finally nodded his head.

"All right fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else." As he said this, he reached in the glove compartment and pulled out a pistol. He glared at Sam before opening the door, and storming to Max's house.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

We burst through the front door to hear Max yelling at his step-mother, who was chopping vegetables at the kitchen. They were both shocked at our sudden entrance, and looked at us with wide eyes.

"Fathers?" Ms Miller asked in shock.

"What are you doing here?" Max asked in confusion.

"Aah, sorry to interrupt." Dean hummed.

"Max, can we uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?" Sam asked.

Max eyed us for a few seconds in suspicion. "About what?"

"It's…it's private." I stated.

"We wouldn't want to bother your mother with it." Sam added.

I looked up at Ms Miller, who was still staring at us in shock.

"We won't be long at all," I explained "I promise."

Max looked at her, then back at us. "Okay." He said weakly.

"Great." Sam replied.

The three of us made our way to the door, Max following behind us. Dean opened the door, then turned and smiled at Max, who was staring at him in horror. I followed his gaze, and noticed the butt of Dean's pistol was showing from his belt.

"Dean…" I warned.

The door slammed shut and locked itself, making me jump. Then all the blinds in the room came plummeting down.

"You're not priests!" Max yelled, backing up with his eyes wide. Dean grabbed his gun from his belt, and before I could snatch the gun away from him it seemed to leap from his hands, and onto the floor. Then it slid towards Max, who picked it up quickly. He held the gun up to Sam, Dean and I. My eyes widened, and I put my hands up, as did the two brothers.

"Max, what's happening?" Ms Miller asked as she ran in from the kitchen.

"Shut up." Max growled.

"What are you doing?" She asked in fear. Max lifted a hand to her, and suddenly she went flying back towards the kitchen. There was a crash, then nothing.

"I said shut up!" Max yelled.

Panic crept back into me as I stared at Max holding the gun to us. My hands fell down to my sides, my breath became short, and the room began to spin around me. Then I remember what Sam had told me the night before. I balled my hands into fists, and squeezed them tightly as I focused on my breathing. All the while not moving my gaze from Max as he stared at us in fear and hatred.

"Max, calm down." Sam said softly.

"Who are you?" Max asked angrily.

"We just wanna talk."

"Yeah right, that's why you brought this thing!" Max yelled, indicating towards the gun in his hands.

"That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we are. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please hear me out." Sam begged.

"About what?" Max asked.

"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."

"What?"

"I'm having visions Max. About you."

Max and Sam stared at each other for a while, and Max narrowed his eyes at him.

"You're crazy." He stated.

"So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam tapped his eye. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Man I was drawn here, all right? I think I'm here to help you."

Max's face contorted as he began to cry.

"No one can help me." He sobbed.

"Let me try. We'll just talk, me and you. We'll get Dean, Nicole and Alice out of here."

"Uh-huh." Dean perked up, stepping towards Sam. "No way."

Suddenly the chandelier above us began to shake, sending another wave of fear towards me. I squeezed my fists tighter until I felt the sting of my finger nails pierce through my skin.

"Nobody leaves this house!" Max screamed.

"And nobody has to, okay? They'll just…" Sam glanced at the stairs. "They'll just go upstairs."

"Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him." Dean said sternly.

"Yes you are. Look, Max. You're in charge here, all right, we all know that. No one's going to do anything that you don't want to do but I'm talking five minutes here man." Sam explained quickly.

"Sam." Dean nearly shouted.

Max looked over at Ms Miller as he thought of an answer.

"Five minutes." He said as the chandelier stopped shaking. "Go."

Dean and I quickly ran towards Ms Miller, and carried her up the stairs.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

_Sam's POV:_

I watched as Max raised a letter opener with his power, and began to twirl it slowly. We were sitting in the lounge across from each other. I wished that Dean and Nicole could've stayed with me down here, but I knew Max wouldn't cooperate if they did. I could handle someone like Max.

"Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through." I began to say.

"That's right. You can't." Max replied harshly.

"Max, this has to stop."

"It will, after my stepmother…"

"No. You need to let her go." I explained.

"Why?"

"Did _she_ beat you?"

"No, but she never tried to save me. She's part of it, too."

He did have a point there.

"What they did to you, what they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished…"

"Growing up? Try last week!" Max explained. He stood up and lifted his shirt. Masses of bruises dotted his chest, making me flinch at the sight.

"My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard, I guess." He said.

"I'm sorry." I said softly.

Max sat back down on the couch.

"When I first found out I could move things it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless but now I had this. So last week dad gets drunk. First time in a long time. And he beats me to hell, first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do." Max explained.

"Why didn't you just leave?"

"It wasn't about getting away. Just knowing they would still be out there. It was about… not being afraid. When my Dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

"No." I didn't answer truthfully. Because this wasn't about me anymore.

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for mom's death."

"Why would he blame you for your mom's death?"

"Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault."

I looked at him in shock. No, it couldn't be… could it?

"She died in your nursery?" I asked.

"There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!" He exclaimed. Just like how mom died…

"Listen to me Max. What your dad said, what happened to your mom. It's real." I explained quickly, leaning forward in my chair a bit.

"What?" Max asked.

"It happened to my mom, too, exactly the same. My nursery, my crib, my dad saw her on the ceiling."

"Your dad must have been as drunk as mine." Max snorted.

"No, no. It's the same thing Max. The same thing killed our mothers."

"That's impossible."

"This must be why I'm having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities, they started six to seven months ago right? Completely out of the blue?" I asked, trying not to talk too fast.

"How'd you know that?"

"Cause that's when my abilities started Max. Yours seem to me much further along but still, this has to mean something, right? I mean for some reason, you and I… you and I were chosen."

"For what?"

"I don't know. But Dean, my brother, and Nicole and I, we're all hunting for your moms killer. We can find answers, answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go Max. You gotta let your stepmother go."

Max thought about this for a long time. Then he shook his head.

"No. What they did to me, I-I still have nightmares. I'm so scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for the next beating. I'm so sick of being scared all the time, I just want this to be over!" Max yelled.

"It won't. Don't you get it? The nightmares won't end, Max. Not like this. It's just, more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max, you don't have to go through this all by yourself."

"I'm sorry." Max said suddenly. Before I could say anything else, I was flung to the other end of the room, and stuff into a closet. The closet doors closed, and something slid in front of them so that I couldn't get out. I pushed at the doors hard, but it wouldn't budge.

"No! Max!" I called, but it was useless. I could do nothing as I heard Max walk upstairs to kill Alice. And I knew Dean would get in the way.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

I crouched in front of Ms. Miller who was sitting on the bed, holding a face clothe to her bleeding head. She was in obvious shock, and was not speaking. Dean paced back and forth in the room uncomfortably. Through the tense silence, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs filled the air. I stood up and stepped away from Ms Miller in preparation. Dean and I watched as Max walked in, Dean's pistol in his hand. Dean moved towards him quickly, but was sent crashing against the wall.

"Max!" Ms Miller yelled.

Max lifted his hand to me, and I was pushed backwards. But not as hard as Dean. I only stumbled back, and tripped against the bed towards the floor. Max frowned at me, and threw his hand at me again. I was dragged across the floor, and hit my head on the night table.

"What's wrong with you?" Max asked angrily. Dean shuffled towards Max angrily. As he did I quickly got back to my feet.

"Son of a…" He grunted, but paused when he saw the pistol in Max's hand.

We all watched as the pistol was lifted in the air, and pointed at Ms Miller. I flinched as Max cocked the pistol. Dean stepped in front of the gun, making me gasp.

"No, Dean!" I called.

"Stay back." Max warned. "This is not about you."

"You wanna kill her, you gotta get though me first." Dean stated.

"No, Dean, don't!" I begged. I knew Max didn't care. Max shrugged, and somewhat smirked.

"Okay." He said. Then the gun fired. Blood splattered around me. Dean wavered for a bit, then fell over, dead. I screamed as loud as I could, and fell to my knees. I watched in hysterics as Max pointed the pistol at me, smiled some more, then pulled the trigger again.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

_Sam's POV:_

The premonition felt more real than all the other one that I had. Almost like I could feel Dean's blood on my own hands.

"No! Noo!" I screamed as I hit the closet door as hard I could. Suddenly the thing that was blocking the doors flew backwards. I froze, and pushed the door again, this time with less force. It swung open easily. I took a deep breath, and ran up towards the stairs. I made it to the door where Max was just as I heard Nicole telling Dean to stop. Thank God I made it in time.

"Okay." Max said just as I burst through the door.

"No, don't!" I begged. "Please, please, Max. We can help you. All right." Max began sobbing again. "But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything."

Nicole slowly stepped towards Max as he began shaking. Then he relaxed a little, and stopped crying.

"You're right." He said.

I tried a smile at him. Did I really just convince him?

"No, Max!" Nicole shouted, jumping towards him. In a second Max turned the pistol on himself, and sent a bullet through his own skull.

"No!"


	6. Chapter 6: Beer's and Girls

**Chapter 6**

Nicole's POV:

"Max attacked me." Ms Miller explained to the cops. "He threatened me with a gun."

"And these three?" The cop asked, gesturing towards the boys and I.

"They're… family friends. I called them as soon as Max arrive, I was scared. They tried to stop him. They fought for the gun." She lied. I tried to contain a smile.

"Where did Max get the gun?" The cop asked. Ms Miller looked up at the ceiling, and began sobbing again.

"I don't know. He showed up with it and…" She explained.

"It's all right Ms Miller." The cop assured her.

"I've lost everyone." She sobbed.

The cop turned to us.

"We'll give you a call if we have any further questions." He explained.

"Thanks officer." Dean said, and patted Sam's arm. "Come on. Let's go."

"Hey, Nicole, I've got a question." Dean asked as we walked towards the Impala.

"Go ahead." I said.

"How did you know Max was going to shoot himself so quickly?" He asked.

"People who are suicidal tend to relax when thinking about ending it all. It's like it's a sense of comfort, that there's a way to end their pain. It's easy psychology." I explained.

"If I'd just said something else. Got though to him somehow…" Sam said

"Ah, don't do that." Dean said.

"Do what?"

"Torture yourself. It wouldn't have mattered what you said. Max was too far gone." Dean explained. I nodded my head in agreement.

"When I think about how he looked at me man, right before. I shoulda done something…" Sam said.

"Yeah, and I can think that if I had moved faster I could've gotten to him on time. But I couldn't."

"You have a point." Sam said as we came towards the Impala. "But I'd tell you one thing, Dean. We're lucky we had dad."

Dean looked astounded by that remark, then smiled smugly.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that." He said.

"Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him." Sam explained. Dean looked troubled as we climbed into the car.

"All things considered." He murmured.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

Dean and I packed our things in the motel room, while Sam put his bag in the back of the Impala. It was different to pack up without being in such a rush. It almost held a sort of excitement as to where to next, and what next is there out there.

"You did well this time." Sam said as he came into the room. I smiled.

"I just took your advice. It helped a lot. Thanks, Sam." I said. He smiled back at me, and leaned against the wall.

"Dean, I've been thinking." He said.

"That's never a good thing." Dean replied cheekily.

"I'm serious. I've been thinking, this demon, whatever it is. Why would it kill mom, Jessica and Max's mother, you know? What does it want?" Sam asked.

"I have no idea." Dean replied.

"You think, maybe, it was after us? After Max and me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe he was after us for some reason."

"Sam, if it had wanted you, it would've just taken you. Okay? This is not your fault, it's not about you."

"Then what is it about?" Sam asked angrily.

"It's about that damn thing that did this to our family. The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that includes Nicole's demon." Dean explained.

"Actually there's uh… something else, too."

"Ah jeez, what?"

"When Max left me in the closet, with that big cabinet against the door… I moved it."

Dean and I stared at Sam in curiosity.

"Huh." Dean said. "You got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for."

"No, Dean, I think he means… with is mind. Like Max." I explained.

Dean paused and stared down at his clothes he was putting into his bag. We were all silent for a long time.

"Right." Dean finally said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah." Sam replied.

Dean grabbed a spoon, and held it up to Sam.

"Bend this." He said.

"I can't just turn it on and off, Dean." Sam said in frustration.

"Well how'd you do it?"

"I don't know, I can't control it. I just… I saw you and Nicole die and it just came out of me, like a, like a punch. You know like… a freak adrenaline thing."

"Yeah, well I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Maybe. Aren't you worried, man? Aren't you worried I could turn into Max or something?" Sam asked.

"Nope. No way. You know why?" Dean asked.

"No. Why?"

"Cause you got one advantage Max didn't have."

"Dad? Because dad's not here, Dean." Sam scoffed.

"No. Me." Dean said with a smirk. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you." Dean explained.

"Hey, what about me?" I asked.

"Oh, and… and Nicole." Dean said, scratching his neck. "Hey, I have a question for you Nicole."

"What is it?"

"Max had us all like rag dolls when he threw us around, but why did he have troubles with you?" Dean asked. I frowned at him.

"Yeah," Sam added, "I saw that in my premonition."

"What, are you saying I'm heavy?" I teased.

"No, you're like half my size." Dean retorted, making me chuckle.

"Look, I have no clue, guys. And is it really that important?" I asked. Dean shrugged.

"Guess not. I was just curious." He swung his closed bag over his shoulder. "Now then. I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Vegas." Dean stated with a mischievous grin. I smiled widely, and lifted my bag with me as I stood up.

Sam tilted his head at Dean in frustration, and walked out of the room angrily. Dean watched him with a defeated look as he left.

"You know, I've always wanted to go to Vegas." I said once Sam had left the room. Dean shot a sideways glance at me, and smiled.

"Yeah, well, maybe one day we can ditch this downer and go together. How does that sound?" He asked. I nodded.

"That would be awesome."

* * *

><p><strong>Episode Three<strong>

**Shadow **

I thought dressing up with just an occasional thing. But apparently, with these boys, it was a very common thing. Maybe even venturing on 'normal'. Sam opened the door of the car, and looked patiently at me.

"I don't want to come out like this…" I stated hesitantly. Sam smirked.

"Come on. Nobody here will know you, or even remember you. They may not even want to look at you." He explained reassuringly. I snorted.

"Jeez. Comforting."

Sam took my hand to help me out of the Impala. I didn't know why he kept doing that. Like I wasn't capable enough to get out of a damn car by myself. As we walked down the road, I pulled at the tight fabric the boys had stuffed me in. We were disguised as employees of an alarm company. There had been a break in and a murder at somebodies house. That person had this specific company alarm installed into her house, but it didn't go off. I had wondered what it had to do with my demon, but the boys assure me they knew what they were doing. Besides, I was curious as to what had happened to the girl.

"I have to agree with the girl here, Sam." Dean said as we walked towards the apartment building. "I feel like a high school drama dork." He smiled at Sam. "What was that play that you did? What was it… Our town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

"Look, you wanna pull this off or not?" Sam asked in frustration.

"I'm just sayin', these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?"

"Whose?"

"Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?"

I chuckled as we turned to walk through the front doors.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

"Thanks for lettin' us look around." Sam said as the landlady let us into the girls apartment.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…" The lady replied. The chain on the door was broken, and spots of blood covered the carpet. The sight of blood made my stomach lurch, but I did my best to keep my composure.

"You said you three were with the alarm company?" The lady asked.

"That's right." Dean replied.

"Well, no offence, but your alarms about as useful as boobs on a man."

I held in a chuckle as the two boys gave each other looks.

"That's why we're here. To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again." Dean said.

"Now ma'am, you found the body?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." The landlady replied.

"Right after it happened?"

"No. Few days later. Meredith's work called. She hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell."

"Any windows open? Any sign of break-in?" Dean asked.

"No, windows were locked, front door was bolted. Chain on the door, we had to cut it just to get in."

Well there goes that idea…

"And the alarm was still on?" I asked.

"Like I said, bang-up job your company's doin'." The lady replied.

"Mhm. You see any overturned furniture, broken glass, signs of struggle?" Dean asked, but the lady only shook her head.

"Everything was in perfect condition… well, except Meredith." She explained.

"And what condition was Meredith in?" Sam asked.

"Meredith was all over. In pieces. The guy who killed her must have been some kind of a whackjob. But I tell you, if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it."

I watched as the two boys looked at each other again. My guess was that this wasn't a wild animal. It was something much worse.

"Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time? Give this place a once-over?" Sam asked.

"Oh, well," The landlady shrugged. "go right ahead. Knock yourself out."

Once the lady was gone, Dean opened the toolbox he brought up, and pulled out a strange device. He lifted it up, and a row of lights on the top flashed on.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It's an EMF detector. Electro-magenetic field detector. Helps to figure out if there's any spirit's in here." Dean explained. I struggled to hold in a laugh. Dean looked up at me in confusion, making the laugh bubble out.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing." I said, trying to keep my composure. "No, nothing at all….Ghostbuster's." I teased.

"Look, try and take this seriously." Dean said, somewhat upset. I waved my hand at him, while covering my mouth to hold down another laugh.

"Yup, sorry… go on." I stammered. Dean frowned at me for a bit before going on.

"So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment-no weapons, no prints, nothin'."

"I'm tellin' ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig." Sam explained. Just as he said this the EMF reader lit up, and started making strange noises. I frowned down at it.

"Yeah, I think I agree with you." Dean said.

"So, you talked to the cops?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah." Dean said while smirking. "I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law."

Perky?

"Yeah? What'd you find out?" Sam asked.

"Well…" Dean said while looking into the distance, almost dreamily. "She's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean… wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo…"

"Cut it out!" I snapped.

Both boys looked at me in shock at my sudden outburst. And to be honest, I was a little shocked myself.

"Whoa… Looks like I hit a nerve." Dean said.

"Just… just tell us what you found out from… her." I explained.

"Okay… well, uh, nothing we don't already know. Except for one thing they're keepin' out of the papers."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Meredith's heart was missing."

"Her… heart?" Sam asked, stunned.

"Yeah. Her heart."

"So, what do you think did it to her?" Sam asked.

"I'm guessing… not a wild animal?" I asked. Dean nodded his head.

"Yeah, so maybe a werewolf?" He suggested.

"Get out. There are no such thing as werewolf's!" I stated, but got blank expressions from the boys. "… Right?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. There are more monsters out there than just demons and people." Dean explained.

"Then what about vampires? Do they exist?"

"Probably. But I highly doubt they sparkle."

"Jeez, it's like I've stumbled into the Twilight movies." I groaned.

"You wanna be Bella Swan?" Dean asked. I shook my head roughly.

"God, don't insult me like that!" I teased, making Dean grin down at me.

"Kay, guys, back on focus." Sam said. "It's not a werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right. Plus, if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace. It's probably a spirit." Sam explained.

Dean looked at the carpet splattered with blood for a little while. Then his eyes lit up.

"See if you can find any masking tape around." He said.

Sam and I watched as he worked to connect the blood splatters with the masking tape that we found. After he was done, he stood up to look down at the symbol he had created.

"Whoa." I breathed.

"Ever see that symbol before?" Sam asked.

"Never." Dean answered.

"Me neither."

(††††††††††††††††††††)

I glared at Dean as he was bent over the bar, flirting with the bartender. Something about seeing him flirt made me surprisingly angry. I couldn't explain it, since I had only just met the guy, and there was no way that I could have any sort of feelings for him. It was something I couldn't ignore. I stomped towards Dean, and grabbed his elbow roughly.

"Come on." I grumbled as I pulled him away. He looked longingly at the bartender as I pulled him, and then turned to me.

"What's the deal?" He asked, somewhat upset.

"Don't do that in front of me." I muttered, and sat us down at a table.

"Why not? Nicole, come on, look at her. She's so hot…" He trailed off as he tried to get away from me. I gripped his arm tighter, making it clear I didn't want him going anywhere.

"Stop it, alright?"

"I was just asking about details on Meredith." Dean explained, faking innocence.

I frowned, and snatched a napkin from his coat pocket. It had the girls phone number on it.

"Unbelievable." I said, stuffing it into my own pocket. "You're not getting this back, you know."

"Come on, Nicole." Dean whined, although I could tell he wasn't being too serious. "Don't be like that."

"Just stay focused on what's at hand. Please?" I begged. Dean nodded his head at me.

"I don't understand why you have such a problem with it." He said.

"I just do, okay? I can't explain it." I said.

Sam sat down at the table with three beers in hand, and setting them on the table.

"Did you find anything?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, Dean found this." I said, taking the napkin out of my pocket to show Sam the number. He smirked widely at me.

"Oh, come on, just give it back." Dean said, reached for it. I stuffed it back into my pocket again, gave Dean a face, and took a sip from my beer.

"You mind doin' a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" Sam asked, making me laugh.

"What? Look, there's nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she wanted tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so… what about that symbol, you find anything?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his own beer.

"Nope, nothing. It wasn't in dad's journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess." Sam explained.

"Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?"

"Right. Yeah." Sam pulled out some news paper clippings from his backpack, and set it on the table. "His name was Ben Swardstrom. Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal, the door was lock, the alarm was on."

"Is there any connection between the two of them?" Dean asked.

"Not that I can tell. I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common. They were practically from different worlds."

"So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number." Dean said.

"And you're still not getting that back." I shot a look at Dean, who looked down at his beer sadly. I looked back at Sam, who was staring across the bar. He looked like he had spotted someone.

"Sam?" I asked. He stood up, and quickly walked across the bar. Dean and I shared a look, and followed after him.

"Meg?" I heard Sam ask. A girl with short blonde hair looked up at him in astonishment.

"Sam! Is that you? Oh my god!" She exclaimed as she stood up, and hugged him. "What are you doing here?" She asked when they pulled away.

"I'm just in town, visiting friends." Sam lied. Meg looked at me, and smiled.

"Is this your friend?" She asked.

"Uh…" Sam turned to me, then put an arm around me. "Yeah, this is Nicole. She lives here." He explained. Oh, he's going to pay for lying to this girl later. I put my hand out to Meg.

"It's good to meet you." I said as she shook my hand.

"And you. So, are you dating this dreamy boy?" She asked with a wink. Sam stiffened next to me, and looked down at me.

"Oh my gosh, no!" I said, almost insulted.

"How about his brother?"

"Also no. And I'll probably never date these jerks." I said while squeezing Sam tightly, making him laugh nervously.

"But uh, what about you, Meg? I thought you were going to California." He asked.

"Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what's his name, something Michael Murray at a bar." Meg explained.

"Who?" I asked.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while." Meg explained. I heard Dean clear his throat behind us, and I turned my head to look at him.

"Do you know her?" I mouthed to him.

"No." He mouthed back while shaking his head.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts, Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odd's we'd run into each other?"

There was something weird about this Meg character. Something slightly off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Just the way she looked at Sam was… different. Maybe it was just me.

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again." Sam said.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong." Meg replied. Behind me, Dean cleared his throat again, this time louder. Meg glared at him. "Dude, cover your mouth."

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is uh… this is my brother, Dean." Sam explained.

"This is Dean?" Meg asked in obvious surprise.

"Yeah."

"So, you've hear of me?" Dean asked, sounding nervous.

"Oh, yeah. I've heard of you." Meg said harshly. "Nice. The way you treat your brother like luggage."

"Sorry?"

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth."

"Meg, it's all right." Sam reassured her. A tense silence followed after. I turned to Dean, and grabbed his arm.

"Okay, well, Dean and I will be going then. Nice meeting you, Meg." I said, and walked back to the table with Dean. We watched as Sam continued to talk with her from a distance.

"So you've never met her before?" I asked. Dean shook his head. "She doesn't seem to like you very much."

"No. Looks like Sam's been telling stories about me." He explained.

"He doesn't seem like the guy to make stuff up. Do you… really treat him like luggage?" I asked.

"What? No!" Dean exclaimed. "He's my brother. We all have our fights every once in a while. Hey, I doubt you and your sister never fought before." He did have me there.

"You're right." I said as I fumbled with the beer bottle. "Emma and I did use to fight a lot. I think it was a power control thing, but we were still really close."

"See? You fought with your sister, and I fight with my brother." Dean explained.

"Do you fight often?" When he didn't answer, I assumed the answer was 'yes'.

(††††††††††††††††††††)

We left the bar once Sam was done talking to Meg, and we had finished our beers. The cold air was refreshing after the stuffed up bar. I took a deep breath in, welcoming the ice particles into my lungs.

"Who the hell was she?" Dean asked.

"I don't really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man, it's weird." Sam explained.

"And what was she saying? I treating you like luggage? What, were you bitchin' about me to some chick?" It was blatantly clear that Dean was angry. I didn't blame him.

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen…"

"Well, is there any truth to what she's saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?"

"No, of course not. Now, would you listen?"

There was a short tense silence as Dean calmed himself.

"What?"

"I think there's something strange going on here."

"Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn't even that into me." Dean said. I punched his arm angrily. Not too hard, but hard enough for him to know that I meant business. He flinched hard, and rubbed his arm. "Aw, come on, are you gonna get angry every time I…"

"Yes, yes I am." I stated firmly. "And for the record, I think there was something strange about her. She seemed… wrong."

"Tell me about it. Like, our kind of strange. Maybe even a lead." Sam added.

"Why do you guys say that?" Dean asked.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

"I don't know, random coincidence. It happens."

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I'm just sayin' that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on." Sam said. Dean smirked at him.

"Well, I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a think for her, huh?" Dean asked, making Sam rolls eyes. "Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

"Do me a favour. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor." Sam said.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna watch Meg."

"Yeah," Dean laughed, "you are."

"I just wanna see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

"Alright, you little pervert."

"Dude." Sam said angrily.

"I'm going, I'm going." Dean said.

"I'll tag along with him, if you don't mind." I said. Sam nodded his head, and I followed after Dean across the street.


End file.
